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Cloak of New England (Revised)
I awake to tap and spatter of snain dimpling the lakeís wind-textured face fragile ice-crust edges of snowflakes cling to the hollows of the trees, where deep cold wind canít budge protected momentary existence. Quarreling Blue Jays jump from branches, bouncing a bread crumb dominance dance dismissing wind dervishes for the smorgasbord. Chorusing Crows caw raucous retorts sweeping their throaty sound in wide winged retreat from Oak boughs standing nude against periodic onslaughts of swirling snow. Rain waffles between sleet pellet sheets as temperatures of Winter try to make up her mind Still wet from weeping, she hesitantly moves out of hypnotic drummed starkness into the cape green of Spring. Arriving to cloak the New England coast in silver-tinged sunlight, late in the timetable of her seasons, royal red Cardinals seal her choice and snow swirls around daffodils in the new morning light.
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